Vol’jin looked at the spear. The head had clearly pierced his spine and ruptured his bowels. To make things worse, it had a broad cross guard. They couldn’t slide him off the spear, and it had lodged too deep in the wall to pull it free. “Hold still. I be knowing a spell…”
The man shook his head and hissed as the elder monk felt around the exit wound. “No. I’m done. We did good. I can die happy.”
(…)
The man stiffened as the spear wavered. Something behind him snapped. He fell forward, and Taran Zhu caught him. Vol’jin helped the monk lower him to the floor. Tyrathan had closed his eyes, so Vol’jin didn’t know if he could hear, but he spoke anyway. “I not gonna let you die. I didn’t get the one that killed you, and you be owing me an arrow for Garrosh.”
Vol’jin pressed his hands around the wound, tight to the spear blade. He nodded to Taran Zhu. The pandaren wiggled the haft gently, then slid the blade free. A good four inches of the spearhead had remained in the wall. The bloody edge looked as if it had been worried so much it had parted for metal fatigue. How the monk had broken the blade off, Vol’jin had no clue, and he had no time to think on it.
In this scene from Shadow of the Horde, Tyrathan’s been impaled by a mogu spear into a pillar so deep there’s no way to remove the spear from the wall. Taran Zhu breaks the spear blade in half with chi.
Khal’ak’s right hand came up and whipped forward before Vol’jin could shout a warning. A slender knife spun through the air at the eldest monk. As it sped toward its target, she scooped a sword up from the ground and charged
for Taran Zhu.
The pandaren monk’s right paw came up in a circular parry, from inside toward out. He batted the dagger away with the back of his paw, redirecting it.
In the blink of an eye, it quivered in a Zandalari, lodging in his throat before the victim or his companions had consciously realized their leader had thrown it, and well before any of them had taken the chance to heed the monk’s warning.
Stunned by unfolding events, they remained rooted in place.
Here you see him de- and reflecting projectiles with his bare hands.
As the mogu fell forward, Taran Zhu punched up and out. His spear-pawed strike pierced the mogu’s breastplate with a high-pitched pop. His arm disappeared to the elbow in the mogu’s chest. Stiffened fingers dented the backplate from the inside out.
And here you see him impale through a mogu’s chestplate – which previously is described as being unbelievably thick in the novel, through the mogu himself (and they’re some enormously muscular dudes) and dent the plate on the way out. All with his bare hand again.
A lot of the novel is written from Vol’jin’s point of view, so they keep the magic of the monks more mystified as there’s no visual cue other than the great feats they pull off from an outsider’s perspective. Unless you really go all out with your chi, a lot of their enhanced abilities from a lore perspective don’t carry some visual cue to warn you of what’s about to happen.